


Stage 3: Player

by Teland



Series: Stage [3]
Category: The X-Files, due South
Genre: Communication Failure, First Kiss, M/M, Obsession
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 1999-07-17
Updated: 1999-07-17
Packaged: 2020-12-21 02:02:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,346
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21066935
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Teland/pseuds/Teland
Summary: The logical place to begin the hunt is the last place you know your prey visited.





	Stage 3: Player

Ray blears his way up from someplace dark, smoky, and sodden at the   
pound-pound-pound and cries out.

It probably wasn't a word, but Ray doesn't give a fuck. Shift and   
*fuck* he's sore and oh. Oh, yeah.

Alex. 

"Pay no attention, buddy. If they keep knocking I'll just shoot 'em   
through the friggin' door." His own laugh comes out a croak and Ray   
waits for the husky-smooth tease of the other man's voice.

"Ray?"

But that's nowhere near Alex's voice beside him. Or any voice beside   
him, for that matter. He opens his eyes to empty, rumpled sheet beside   
him. 

Turns on his back to find Fraser above him, bent over the bed and   
staring intently into his face to be exact.

Suddenly, Ray is helplessly, hopelessly aware that he looks and smells   
like a man who has spent the night dancing, drinking, and fucking.   
He's surrounded by a cloud of his own reek and Fraser... didn't he   
just *have* to be here for this part?

"Who were you talking to, Ray?"

So polite, so fucking *even*. "What the fuck are you doing here,   
Fraser?"

"I... you didn't call --"

"Ah, Christ. I overslept? Sorry, Fraser." Ray takes the opportunity   
of another apology Fraser can hem and haw and philosophize over to   
roll out of bed and start toward the bathroom.

But Fraser is suddenly in front of him.

//*Too fucking early for this.*//

"What?"

Fraser is in full uniform save for his hat. One short lock of hair is   
cowlicked out of place, and his face...

"Where did he go, Ray?"

His face may as well be cut from rock save for the flush. Fraser's   
eyes catch and hold his own and Ray shakes his head at the look there--   
a slow, mindless burn quickly shuttered again.

Ray watches the other man flick out his tongue once only to be bitten   
and tugged back inside. This... this isn't right.

Ray shakes off his first, defensive reaction and stares for a moment.   
Tries to reach through the muzziness for something resembling a way   
to deal with... whatever this is.

"Please tell me where he is, Ray."

Brain kicks in just enough to suggest he ask why right before   
something *else* kicks in to beg him not to ask.

What the fuck?

"Fraser..." He tries out an apologetic smile, fraction of a laugh.   
"What's going on here?"

"I want to know where he is."

"I gotta admit something here -- you're really starting to freak me   
out a little here --"

And then his forearm is trapped in Fraser's fist. Painfully tight for   
an almost hallucinatorily brief instant and he's jerking back, reaching   
in with his free hand to pry the other man's fingers away. Fraser bats   
him away and then begins to trace the marks on his arm.

His eyes never leave Ray's own. He's doing this from memory.

"I want to know where the man who... did this to you is now, Ray."   
Briefest flicker of... something else across the placid face. 

It's a difficult thing to watch for Ray. Fraser often comes across   
with all the plastic square-jawed prettiness of a toy Clark Kent.   
Attractive but all fantasies come off frustrating, pathetically   
perverse.

But not when Fraser's angry. 

And before he has time to even decide whether or not he even *wants*   
to think that through his arm has been released and Fraser's pushing   
up his jaw. All he can see now his own ceiling.

This time the touch is so light that Ray can only assume the other   
man is tracing more bruises.

"You know I can't let him get away with this."

This. This *what*? His anger finally kicks in and Ray jerks out of   
Fraser's grip. 

Tries to. Fraser's hands tighten immediately, one on his jaw, one   
at the base of his throat. His body is still free but that thought   
doesn't occur to him until after the ones about limited oxygen and   
fragile spines. 

"Please don't leave, Ray."

He feels himself jerk once, twice in Fraser's grasp but there's no   
power behind it. Fraser's voice contains no trace of its usual calm.   
He wonders if maybe one day when the comics guys weren't looking   
Clark Kent watched from someplace far and quiet while Superman let   
Lois fall...

//Fuck oh god *fuck* --//

"Fraser, what happened? Come on, man, I know you don't really wanna   
hurt me. Just tell me what's going on and we can get through this --"

"Try to calm down, Ray. It's common for victims of sexual assault to   
have displaced feelings of protectiveness for their abusers. I know   
you understand that..."

Sweat breaks out all over his body and Ray smells last night's vodka.   
Sees Alex's Cheshire grin shining out of the darkness and moving down   
and down his body... He laughs a little, shocked and mildly disturbed   
by how naturally it comes out.

"You've got it... *really* wrong, Frase and even if you didn't no one   
would ever give you prizes for your rape counseling technique..."

He trails off, waits. The hands never move and Ray watches the shadows   
of the morning creep across the ceiling and hears his blood pound in   
his ears. Fraser isn't cutting off his air. Isn't squeezing any harder   
than is necessary to keep him still. He's still in there, just... 

Ray licks his lips once, forces himself to ignore the brief tremor in   
the hands as he swallows past them. Brings his hands up to settle on   
the other man's wrists. 

"You have to know this is wrong --"

"Why did you let him hurt you, Ray?"

//"Oh oh Christ just suck me --"

//"I'm gonna eat you alive..."//

"Jesus Christ, Fraser, I let him *fuck* me. I like it rough sometimes,   
OK? I like knowing for sure I wasn't alone --" He bites off the words   
and finds himself once again stymied by the rock-steady hand on his   
jaw. "Is this what you wanted to know? Hunh? A little anthropo-fucking-  
logical foray through the world of deviant --"

And that's all he can get out before Fraser yanks his head down and   
kisses him. Sucking pressure teeth in his lower lip a breath of air   
and then a hot, thick tongue uncoiling shortly into his mouth and the   
other hand never left the base of his throat and *now* it squeezes --   
just a little. 

And then it's over and he has his own space again and Ray shakes all   
over in a way he can't even try to claim was his own choice. When   
he catches his breath again he looks up and Fraser is just standing   
there, hands fisted white-knuckle tight at his sides and his eyes   
are... lost.

"Ray, I --"

"No. No. *NO*! What the *fuck*, Fraser? You're just gonna come in here,   
fucking *interrogate* me and then... what? You get to fuck me now, too?

"Just because you need me so bad you have to hurt me?"

A dozen different emotions fly over the other man's face, none of   
them look like they fit. 

Ray thinks he'll be able to wait for Fraser's explanation up until   
the moment the other man opens his mouth and he sees the raw red   
evidence of his own stubble and a haze settles over his vision.

"Don't. Don't even. This is..." He squeezes his eyes shut and is   
instantly positive Fraser is swooping in to but when he opens his   
eyes the man is still right there, watching him. "Are you going   
to get out or am I gonna throw you out?" Several more moments of   
stillness and Ray wonders if, even in the long, long fall from the   
Daily Planet roof Lois has enough time to fear more than the broken   
superhero. 

He's looking down at his bare feet, he's trying not to let his arms   
move in front of his body, his rumpled, inadequate boxers, and when   
he hears the first thud of bootheel on hardwood floor he squeezes his   
eyes shut again.

Feels heat, the ghost of a kiss on his shoulder and shudders just as   
he hears his front door latch closed. 

Breathes.

End.


End file.
